A Ghost of a Chance
by reflekshun
Summary: Holmes and Watson try to help a client claim his inheiritance.  But is all as it seems in this case?
1. Chapter 1

The Ghost of a Chance, Chapter the First.

I need to give a huge 'thank you' to my awesome beta, Medcat.

For everyone who read and reviewed, take my thanks and a virtual cookie.

Mrs. Pencil- I am glad that you liked it, and there is plenty more to come. Your review certainly made my day brighter. Thank you. Just Fishes!

Westron Wynde {}- Glad you're still with us, it has been a wild ride. And there is still more to come.

At precisely seven o'clock the door to Sherlock's bedroom opened, slowly and silently. Stealthy feet skirted the bed, and stopped. "Wake up, Holmes," said Watson. "Mrs. Hudson has made a special breakfast for us." Holmes groaned and burrowed deeper under the covers. They were promptly pulled off of the bed. Holmes grabbed the end of the blanket and held on. He did not want to get up. Just five more minutes and then he would deal with this. The doctor stopped pulling on the bedclothes. Holmes pulled them around him, and tried to ignore the piercing glare that he knew he was getting.

Suddenly he and the bedclothes landed on the floor in a tangle of sheets. He looked up with venom in his eyes. Watson dropped the mattress and ran into the sitting-room. Holmes ran after him, grabbing his robe as he went. He was glad that he had, for Mrs. Hudson was laying out their breakfast. As her back was still to him, he quickly donned his robe, mouthing "Just you wait," to Watson, who was wearing a very large grin.

Mrs. Hudson had really outdone herself this time. There were bangers and mash, poached eggs, kippers, homemade bread, and cinnimon buns to 'fill up the corners'.

"I want you boys to have a good breakfast before you go off and have another adventure. I hope you have a good one. Good luck and Godspeed." With that, Mrs. Hudson left for the market.

Together, the two friends attacked the breakfast with enthusiasm. Holmes had time to eat without rushing, and then he went to his room to get ready for the day.

He even had time to wash up and leisurely get dressed. Then he and Watson stepped out and saw that James was as good as his word, and the hansom was waiting for them.

"Good mornin', gents. We're goin' out to God's own country. I hope that you two are ready for a long trip. Are those bags all that you are taking?" James climbed down from his seat and put their bags away.

Holmes and Watson climbed into the hansom and got ready for a long trip.

"Watson, what is that package on the seat by you?"

"I am not sure. Mrs. Hudson left it on the table by the door, with this note, that says not to open it before noon. Since there is a foodlike aroma rising from it, I deduce that it is a lunch for us. What do you think, Holmes?"

"Excellent deductions, Watson. You are coming along rather swimmingly."

Both men shared a laugh at this, but it was cut short when the vehicle lurched first to one side, and then to the next. After a few moments, it stopped altogether.

Holmes stuck his head out of the window.

"What's going on, James?"

"Sorry for the rough ride, sir. A growler tried to run us off the road. Then after two or three tries, it just speeded up and passed us. Are you two gents all right?"

"Just shaken up. What about you?"

"The same. Those guys were close to running us off the road, and then they just left. There is another road that I can take. Sit tight, and I'll have you at the castle a little later than if I used this road, but it will get you there all the same."

"That will do, James. I'm glad that you knew of another route."

They rode on for several hours, Holmes and Watson both reading books that they had brought. At precisely noon, Watson opened the package that Mrs. Hudson had sent with them. The aroma that wafted out made Holmes and the doctor acutely aware that it was time for lunch.

"Look, Holmes. There are a few sandwiches and a few tarts. And here is a package that is just marked 'Driver'. Hand it up the trap, will you Holmes?"

The detective complied, and then reached for a sandwich for himself. After the two men had eaten, they once again turned to their respective books. They had been reading for a few minutes when the hansom began to sway violently, and then rolled over several times. Everything became silent, and nothing moved, save for the growler that was rapidly retreating.


	2. Chapter 2

The Ghost of a Chance, Chapter the Second.

Holmes woke up and realised that he was staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. He started to sit up, and a smallish hand on his chest gently pushed him back down. He heard a familiar voice call out "Dr., he's awake."

He looked up to see if his ears had deceived him. No, there sat Cassandra Brownlee. To Holmes she said " Take it slow. I'll help you. Here, take my arm. Gently now, that's it." After she helped the detective up, she sat back down in a chair by the bed.

Just then, a tall man strode into the room. Holmes recognised him, too. "Dr. Palmer, what are you doing here? And Miss Brownlee, how did you get here?" He looked around and saw Watson in a bed by his.

"Mr. Holmes, how good to see you. I only wish the circumstances were different. How do you feel ?"

"Like I was in a hansom wreck. How are Watson and James?"

"James is your driver, correct?" At Holmes' nod, he told him "James was thrown clear of the hansom, but his throat was cut, and he was left for dead. He is still unconscious, but when he wakes up I can tell you more. As to how I got here, my family and I are on holiday at the Seafront Inn. It is not too far away. When you were found, your brother asked me to tend to you. Miss Brownlee is my nurse. She came along to care for the children,but she came with me when we heard that a doctor was needed."

"Who found us, and where are we?" Holmes thought for a moment. "How did Mycroft know about this, anyway?"

Dr. Palmer sat down in a chair by Holmes' bed. "You were expected at the castle. When you did not show up, the people at the castle started to look for you. When they found you, they saw that someone had run you off the road, and they contacted your brother. At the moment, he is needed at his office, but he will be down when he has a chance."

Just then, they heard a moan. Dr. Palmer looked over and saw that James was stirring. He rushed over to him. "It is all right now, you are safe. You were thrown clear, and took quite a bump to the head. Now, just lie back, that's right. Your throat must be very sore. Your throat was cut, but it has been sewn up. Here, would you like some water?"

James nodded, and Dr. Palmer held a glass of water for him, and he drank. After a moment, he winced and lay back down. He nodded his thanks to the doctor, and was sleeping again in a few minutes. After seeing that his presence was no longer needed, Dr. Palmer came back to his seat by Holmes.

"As I was saying, you are in a room at the castle. I found nothing wrong with you, except for being bruised and banged around a little. You also have a slight concussion, so you need to stay still and be quiet for a while."

"I will not argue with you there. James seems to be coming along, and so am I, but how is Watson?"

"Well, he has a large, deep gash by his temple. Like you, he has a lot of bruises, and I am sure that he will be pretty sore for a while."

"I see. A nap sounds rather nice right now. I do thank you for all the help you have given me. Good night."

Dr. Palmer and Miss Brownlee left. Cassandra stayed in the next room, and checked on the three men every forty-five minutes or so. Each time that she checked on them, they were all asleep. Pretty soon, she started to feel tired, too. She checked her watch,and saw that it was time to go check on the patients again. She got up, and something ran through the door, which she had left ajar. It ran to the middle of the room and disappeared. Cassandra shook her head. She could have sworn that she had seen a chicken. A headless, glowing chicken. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell back into her chair. This time, she truly had fainted, but there was no one there to see it.

A little while later Dr. Palmer came in to see how she was doing. She was just coming to herself, and he rushed over to her.

"Are you all right? What happened?" asked the doctor.

Tearfully, Cassandra told him what she had seen.

"There, there. You must have had quite a fright. Come on, let's find a cup of tea. I know I saw a kitchen around here somewhere. I'll just look in on our patients, and we will get that tea."

When he opened the door to check on the men, he saw that Watson was sitting up in bed rubbing his eyes. The other two men were sleeping. Dr. Palmer crossed the room and sat down in a chair by Watson's bed.

"Good to see you up. How are you feeling?"

"Who are you, and why can't I see anything?"


	3. Chapter 3

The Ghost of a Chance, Chapter the Third.

"I am Dr. Palmer. You probably remember me from London. Let us talk quietly, so that we do not wake the others."

"Too late," said Sherlock. "Watson, I am so glad that you are up. Did I hear you say that you could not see?" While he was talking, he moved over to Watson's side and sat down on his bed. Watson was very obviously upset, so Holmes put his arm around Watson's shoulder and rubbed small circles on Watson's back with the other one. That usually had a calming effect, and this occasion was no exception.

"You heard correctly," answered his panicked fellow-lodger. "I woke up and could not see a thing. I lay here for a moment, and then I heard someone at the door. He came over to the bed, so I asked him who he was, and why I could not see. Holmes, what use am I to anyone? I'm a doctor who cannot see. I cannot think of a more useless thing at the moment." He dropped his head on Holmes' shoulder dejectedly.

Dr. Palmer spoke up. "You have a grievous wound on your head by your left temple. I think that it is causing your blindness, and I think that it is also temporary, although as a doctor yourself, you know that only time will truly tell."

"Yes. I know that you are right about waiting. It won't be easy, but I will get through this," acknowledged Watson.

"Yes, you will. I have never seen you back down from something that you have made up your mind to do. And I will be here for you, to give you all the support that you want. Just know that you are not alone, old man," said Holmes.

Watson could not hide his tears of relief. "Holmes, that truly means a lot to me."

"Miss Brownlee and I will be there for you, too, and we will help you in any way we can."

"Miss Brownlee? Miss Cassandra Brownlee? What is she doing here, and what brings you here? Where is here, anyway?" asked Watson.

At that moment, the woman herself came in to see what was keeping the doctor. She saw Dr. Watson sitting up, rushed to his side and caught him up in an embrace. "Oh, Dr. Watson, I am so glad to see you up! How are you feeling?"

"My dear Miss Brownlee, how nice to be in your presense again!" said Watson, returning the embrace.

Cassandra was looking at the gash on Watson's temple, and she asked, "Do you have a headache, or any dizziness?"

"Yes, I have a terrible headache, and the dizziness comes and goes, but the thing that is bothering me the most is that I cannot see. However, Dr. Palmer says that he thinks that it is temporary, so I suppose that I will take it one day at a time. So tell me, how is it that you are in this area?"

"I am working for Dr. Palmer. He took his family on vacation at a local hotel, and I came along to help look after the children. Then Dr. Palmer was called to the front desk and told that there was a doctor needed at the Castle. We were picked up in front of the hotel, and here we are. I'll get some powder for your headache. You really should lie down and rest for a while, at least until the dizziness gets a bit better."

"You know, a nap does sound good, now that you mention it. Maybe we can catch up in a little while?"

Cassandra nodded excitedly as she rose to get the headache powders. Then she realized that she should speak. " Yes, that would be wonderful. Excuse me please, I will be right back."

Cassandra rose and left the room. As she left, she passed Mycroft in the hall. He strode into the room.

"Brother mine! I am glad to see you on your feet. How are you feeling?" He held out his hand.

Holmes took the offered hand and shook it warmly. "Much better now that Watson is up. There is just one problem. He cannot see. Dr. Palmer said that he thinks it is temporary. Since Watson is going to rest, why don't we take our conversation out into the other room?"

"That sounds perfectly fine to me," said Mycroft.

"It does sound good to me. And just wait until you hear what happened to Miss Brownlee..."

They all left, and Watson was glad for the quiet. He was already in a nice, dark room, so he did not need to draw the drapes. He chuckled softly at the irony of the situation.

As he was trying to find a comfortable way to position his head, Miss Brownlee came back with some pillows and a glass of headache powder for him. "Here you go. Drink up, and these are some more pillows for you." She fluffed the pillows and put them behind his back. Is that more comfortable?"

"Yes, it is. I think that I can sleep now. Thank you so much."

"Get some rest, and we can talk later." He heard the rustle of her skirts retreating, and then the sound of the door closing.

About twenty minutes later, a slight noise woke him up. He could hear someone crying. " I say, who are you, and what is wrong?" There was no answer to his question. He pulled himself up by the bed, and felt in front of him. He took two steps in front of him. "Just pretend that you have your eyes closed. See, it is not too difficult." About then, he became very dizzy. Off balance now, he fell into a bookshelf on the wall. When his hand depressed a certain book, the entire bookshelf turned around, and he was no longer in his room, but in a slanting corridor. He fell into an alcove in the hall, and was knocked quite unconscious.

Behind him, the panel clicked back into place and locked.


	4. Chapter 4

A Ghost of a Chance, Chapter the Fourth.

First, I have to give a huge 'thank you' to my awesome and long-suffering beta, medcat. Thanks again for the copy.

Now I can thank those who read and reviewed.

Anonymous {}- I'm glad that you liked it- I really enjoyed writing the part about the mattress. And the chicken. I hope you enjoy the next part.

Faith Robin- I'm gratified that it caught your interest, and I hope that you enjoy the next chappie.

Brazeau- You are right. It never seems to end for Watson, but he takes it all in good humour. Glad you liked the chapter.

Anonymous {}- I am glad that you enjoyed the chappie. I did not know if the offered support was too sappy for our guys, but in this case, I guess we can overlook some OOC.

Cassandra looked down at her watch. She was in the kitchen with Dr. Palmer, who was making tea. "It is time to check on our patients again. I will be right back."

"Do you want me to go?" asked Dr. Palmer.

"No, I will have to go to that room sooner or later, so I might as well get it over with."

"As you wish, but if you need me, just yell."

"All right, I will keep that in mind."

"Hurry up, or your tea will get cold."

"Thank you."

She rose from her chair, and headed down the hall. She stood before the door to her patients in less than five minutes.

She had hoped to see nothing out of the ordinary, and she had not. Opening the door quietly, she checked on James, who was sleeping normally now, and not sedated. Holmes woke up and smiled at her. He noticed the empty bed next to him, and inquired, "Where is Watson?"

"I was just going to ask you about that. You do not know either?"

"No, I do not. Why don't you look around, and I shall alert Dr. Palmer that one of his patients is missing." Holmes swung his long legs out of the bed and was out the door before his nurse had time to agree or disagree.

"Now, if I were a Watson, where would I go?" She looked in all the nooks and crannies of the room, but no Watson was to be seen.

She leaned against the bookcase in the corner of the room. As she leaned upon a certain volume in the bookcase, the whole bookcase swung around. Since the floor slanted downward, she pitched forward. Cassandra was in the dark, but she was not alone.

The door clicked shut and locked behind her.

Meanwhile, the two Holmes brothers and Dr. Palmer were on the way to the room that Watson had occupied. Suddenly a thought occurred to the detective. He turned to his brother and asked him. "I think that I remember you saying that there were people here to meet us, yet I have seen no one else. Why is this?"

Each man slowed down and looked at the portly politician.

"The family felt that it would be in their best interests to leave, but they left a message for you. I am to tell you all to make yourselves at home, and good luck."

"Oh, I'd really like to thank them for that sentiment. In other words, they ran out on us," said a flabbergasted Dr. Palmer.

"Regrettably, I fear that you are correct," answered Mycroft. "The sole occupants of the castle are Nurse Brownlee, Dr. Palmer, Dr. Watson, and yourself, brother mine."

"Since they are not here to speak for themselves, perhaps you would tell us about the family, Mycroft."

"Yes, of course. Let us see, now—the mother is a McHenry by birth, but the surname is Thomas now. The family consists of the mother, Pearl, the father, William, a son, Phillip, and a daughter, Jeanette. Oh, and a very disagreeable teacup poodle named Snickerdoodle."

"With a name like that, no wonder he is out of sorts," remarked the detective. "Which one of these illustrious people is our client?"

"That would be William. He stands to inherit this castle if, when he returns, he can find the fortitude to stay the night. It is an unusual clause in the owner's will, but our lawyers assure us that it is legally binding."

By then they had reached their destination. Dr. Palmer opened the door and frowned. He turned to the detective. "Did you not say that you left Nurse Brownlee here?"

"Yes, she was looking for Watson. Why?"

"It seems that we have two missing people, then."


	5. Chapter 5

A Ghost of a Chance, Chapter the Fifth.

I'd like to thank my awesome beta, Medcat.

I would also like to thank everyone who read and reviewed.

BlackWolfSong- Glad you liked it. I hope you like the rest.

James Birdsong {}- Thank you. I hope this install is as nice.

Mrs. Pencil- I'm glad that you liked that. It just seemed like something she would say. Best fishes, dead.

Cassandra stood up and brushed her skirts off with her hands, and wondered what she had tripped over. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw that it was the figure of a man lying on the ground. She moved his head with her foot, but she still could not make out any details. She could not bear to touch him, but she was curious.

"Ooh, my head. Who is there?" Watson sat up, rubbing his head.

Cassandra, recognizing his voice, grabbed him in a relieved hug. In doing so, she crushed him into the wall. There was a loud "oof" as Cassandra sat down next to the doctor.

"Oh, Dr. Watson, I am so glad to find you! How on earth did you get here?"

"Miss Brownlee! How did you ever get here? Where is here, and do you know how to get back?"

"No, I'm afraid that I do not know how to get back. We are on the other side of a secret door in your room. It opens when you lean on one of the books."

"Did you hear the crying, too?"

"Crying? What crying, doctor?"

"Well, I heard someone crying. They were really crying violently, not just sniffling. I got up to see who it was and if I could help them. Then I got really dizzy, and I fell against something. It must have been the bookcase, and I fell against a stone wall. I hit my head, and when I came to myself, I pulled myself up and then you knocked me over. Miss Brownlee, we are making a habit of getting lost in the secret passages of castles."

"Let's just hope that we do not run into the dungeon this time."

"Amen to that," the doctor said fervently."

"Are you alright? You are not hurt anywhere, are you?"

"Besides an enormous headache, no, thank you." He heard soft crying beside him. "Miss Brownlee, what is the matter?"

"It's just that we are lost, and, and, it seems so hopeless, and I am so scared..." Her speech dissolved into sobs again.

Watson drew her near him. "My dear, it is not so hopeless as you think. Remember all the people in the castle will try to rescue us. We will get through this, just like we did the last time." He squeezed her shoulder gently. "Chin up, and all that."

The doctor felt her take his hand. "Thank you so much. I needed to hear that right now. Let us try to find a way out of here."

They both got up and started walking. Cassandra led the way, with a gentle hand on Watson's sleeve. Soon they heard the sound of other footsteps echoing around the large cavern of a room that they were in.

"Do you see anything?" asked the doctor.

"There are two men on the path coming towards us. They are wearing brown robes and carrying torches. Let us ask them where we are and how to get back inside the castle." Before Watson had a chance to object, she ran toward the men, dragging Watson with her. The doctor was too surprised to simply stop. As Cassandra ran happily to where the men were, she failed to see the yawning hole that was in her way. She fell into the hole and pulled the doctor in after her. As she fell, she hit the side of the hole, and was stunned for a moment. She was just about to yell for help when a pleasant voice spoke up.

"What are you doing down there? Here, take my hand."

"We are fortunate to have fallen down here while you were here. What are you two doing down here?" asked Watson.

"We are but simple monks who take refuge here to meditate, kind sir."

The first monk had just pulled Cassandra out of the hole. "Now, if you will step over here..."

Watson stepped toward the voice. Seconds later, he felt a booted foot connect very forcefully with his jaw.

At the same time, Cassandra felt her hands being tied together. Then one of the men slung her over his shoulder as if she were as light as a child.

The last thing that Watson heard before darkness claimed him was one of the men saying ,"This one will make a good sacrifice."


	6. Chapter 6

A Ghost of a Chance, Chapter the Sixth.

Anonymous {}- Yes he does. But he takes a lickin' and keeps on tickin', does he not? Do not worry for him, this last one will be good for him.

Mrs. Pencil- It does not seem to be. Sometimes things just are not what they seem. Best Fishes.

Westron Wynde- I am glad that you liked the installs, and I hope you like the rest of the story.

The Liberal Admitted- I am so glad to hear from you! I am also very glad that you like the installs.

Wirrel Bagpuss- He will, do not worry.

Watson woke up, and was lazily looking at the ceiling, for he was comfortably wrapped in an afghan and lying on the sofa before a roaring fire. He relished the heat in his leg and in his shoulder. Suddenly it came to him—he could see! He could see the ceiling, and the fire, and the afghan and the sofa. He could see his shoes sitting by the fire, and he could see Holmes in the other room...Holmes! He had to share his good news. He leaped off the couch, took two steps, and fell on his face with the afghan wrapped around his ankles.

Holmes ran in from the other room to help him up. "Steady, old man. The afghan is caught around your ankles. I'll have it off in a moment, and then we will get you up. Did you have a good nap, Watson?"

"Yes, Holmes, the best! {At this point, Holmes was wondering why his friend was so happy about a nap.}

"Holmes, I can see, I can see! Did you hear? I can see!" Watson looked around and thought for a moment. "How did I get back in here?" he asked.

Holmes helped Watson up, and led him to the table. Since the staff of two or three servants were still at the castle, the Holmeses and Dr. Palmer had ordered some sandwiches and coffee. Watson soon had a sandwich and coffee on the table before him. The other three men sat at the table, waiting eagerly for him to tell them of his adventures. Holmes spoke up to answer Watson's question.

"Well, we all looked for the secret door, but we could not find it. This stumped us for a bit, but then I got a candle and slowly walked around the room. The candle flickered by the bookcase, so we knew that it was there, and we had a good idea what the lever that opened it looked like. We all searched for a book, and finally we found the right one. When the door opened, I shoved a small bench into it, so that we could open it again, and we set out to look for you. We all came to a large, cavernous room. We were staying on the path that we were sure that Miss Brownlee would take. Suddenly, we saw a large hole in the path before us, and to our surprise, you were lying in the hole, unconscious. We carried you back here. Then we planned to eat. After that, Mycroft and I were going to go back out and look for Miss Brownlee. Now, tell us what happened to you."

"It started when I heard a woman crying. Not just sniffling, mind you, but violently crying. I managed to get up and take a few steps toward where the sound was coming from. Then a wave of dizziness came over me, and I staggered. I ran into something hard, and then there was nothing there, and I fell backward into the passage. I hit my head and lay stunned for a bit. Then when I collected myself, I got to my feet. That is when Miss Brownlee hit me and knocked me back down. We wandered about, looking for the way back in. Miss Brownlee saw two people coming toward us. Before I could warn her to be quiet, she ran toward them. She pulled me with her, and we fell into that hole that you found me in. They helped Miss Brownlee out, but when I came over, I was kicked in the jaw. As I fell, I heard one of them say that she would make a good sacrifice." He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "That monk could kick rather hard, too."

As one man, the rest of the men said "Sacrifice!"

Mycroft Holmes spoke up. "Gentlemen, we must use our minds. I think that we can assume that this ceremony that Miss Brownlee will be sacrificed at will be held on the night of the next full moon. That means that we have three days to find her. Let us put together what we know. 1. She is somewhere in the passages. 2. Her captors do not want her harmed before they kill her."

"How do you know that her captors do not want her to be harmed?" asked Dr. Palmer.

"Because they did nothing to harm her, they just took her. They did not clout her over the head, or spill blood. They did not have the same compunction in dispatching Dr. Watson, however. This leads me to believe that they do not wish to harm Miss Brownlee."

"This gives me hope. We must find her before the full moon." said Dr. Watson.


	7. Chapter 7

A Ghost of a Chance, Chapter the Seventh.

I would like to thank my awesome beta, Medcat. Thanks so much for vetting this chapter.

I would also like to thank everyone who read and reviewed.

Anonymous{}- I'm glad that you liked it so far. There is plenty more to come.

Cassandra strained against the bonds that held her. Just a little more...snap! She kept her hands exactly (she hoped) as they were. The hooded people watching her were passing around a flask. That meant that they would all be sleeping very soundly soon. Now, if they did not check her bindings before they started dozing, she could escape. She still kept fighting to break bonds that were no longer there, and trying to scream around that blasted gag. If she suddenly became too docile, somebody might get suspicious. It took all the willpower that she possessed not to rip the gag out of her mouth.

It was not too long after that that her guards silently began to fall asleep. One by one their heads nodded, and then they stayed down on the table. They started to snore. Cassandra figured that any noise that she made would be covered by the low roar that wafted up from the table.

It was now or never, she told herself. She began to quietly edge toward the entrance to the cavern that she was in. After ducking back into the cavern until the hallway was clear, she sprinted down the hall and into a dark cave off it.

She sat down and began to cry softly. She was lost. Her head had been covered as soon as she was helped out of the hole that the Brothers found her in. She had no idea how to get back there. Well, she would just have to keep wandering until she found something familiar. And she needed to get moving as soon as she could, and put as much distance as she could between the cavern and her. When they found out that she was gone they would start to look for her, and they had the advantage of knowing the lay of the land. It all seemed so hopeless. That is when she heard it.

There was someone weeping. Cassandra looked around, but she could not see anyone. Shakily, she got up. That was when she remembered what Dr. Watson had said to her. He had heard someone crying. Crazy as it sounded, would following the crying lead her back to the castle? She was not ready to eliminate any possibility at this point. She began to follow the sound, which seemed to move as fast, but no faster than she moved.

She followed the sobbing for what must have been hours, and then she came to a door held open with a small bench. Holding her breath, she entered the room.

She was astounded to find herself in the 'Patient's room' , as she and Dr. Palmer had referred to it as. She sat down on Watson's bed and took off her shoes. Cassandra was rubbing her tired feet when the four men who had had been out looking for her came in, and pulled the bench in with them. They went to the kitchen to talk, so they would not awaken James. Amid a joyous reunion someone, probably Watson, had the presence of mind to put the kettle on.

"Here we were looking for you, and you were here all the time!" exclaimed Watson, who was sitting by Cassandra.

"Oh, no, it was nothing like that. I just got here," laughed Cassandra.

"Tell me how you got away from those blackguards," requested Watson. "We despaired of finding you before they harmed you."

"I did not think that I was going to get out of there at all. But I worked the ropes loose, and then they gave. It helped a great deal that there was a celebration of sorts going on with my guards. They were busy celebrating the fact that they had found such a pleasing sacrifice for their god. Of course, celebrating almost always means drinking, which worked to my advantage. As soon as they all passed out, I slipped out. That is when I realized that I was hopelessly lost. Believe it or not, I heard the sound of a woman sobbing. I remembered that you had heard the same thing, so I followed the sound. I walked for hours, and I finally got back here. But I never did find the woman who was crying. Did you hear anything?"

"No, no I did not. We were all occupied listening for you. Those brutes did not hurt you, did they? So help me, if they did..." Watson looked rather angry at the thought.

"No, they were nothing but gentlemen to me. You would not think that they were planning to hold an occult ceremony that would culminate in my demise. They were very polite, and they even spoon-fed me some broth when they ate. I just could not understand them," explained Cassandra.

"Well, it seems that we have another puzzle to solve," said Sherlock Holmes. " Who is this crying woman, and why did she help you?"

Cassandra thought for a moment. "If this castle is truly haunted, perhaps it is the unhappy spirit of a woman that did not get away from these people, and was sacrificed."


	8. Chapter 8

A Ghost of a Chance, Chapter the Eighth.

First off, I would like to thank my wonderful beta, Medcat. I would also like to thank everyone who read and reviewed. (I do love those reviews!)

James Birdsong() Thank you. I am glad that you liked it.

The Liberal Admitted- I am glad that you liked Cassandra's spirit (no pun intended—well, maybe a little.).

James shifted uneasily in his sleep. The men in his dream were looking for him again. There was nowhere to hide, even if he could get his body to move. He could see three sets of feet getting nearer and nearer until they were right in front of him. They stayed there for a bit. He guessed that they were standing there staring at him. He could feel their eyes boring through him. He knew what was coming next. When his head was roughly pushed back to expose his throat, his suspicions were confirmed. He felt the knife plunging into the tender skin of his neck, leaving a burning trail behind. After reliving this horrible event, the nightmare mercifully let him wake up.

James sat up in bed, shaking and sweating profusely. It had all seemed so real. There seemed to be something going on in the kitchen.

Curiously, he wandered toward the the noise. He was almost to the door when he heard it. It was a small scratching sound. Suddenly, a glowing chicken ran out of the wall. It had no head. It ran past him into the kitchen past the awed onlookers, and into the wall behind them.

James sat down heavily on the nearest bed, and gathered his thoughts. Then he got back up and went to the kitchen.

"I'm so very glad to see you up and around. How do you feel," asked Holmes. "Here, drink this. It ought to help put you right." He handed James a brandy that Dr. Palmer had poured for him.

"Thanks. Don't get me wrong, I am very glad that I was sewn up, but what happened? When those chaps cut my throat, I thought it was all over for me."

Mycroft Holmes stepped forward, oblivious to the fact that his brother had opened his mouth to answer James. "People from the castle were waiting for you. They knew when you left, and when you did not arrive here, they set out to look for you. They found the shattered remains of the carraige and the horses, who had been set free from the vehicle, and were grazing about three hundred feet away. Then they spied you three. They bound your throat and transported you to the castle, and then they sent to a nearby hotel to arrange to pick up a doctor who was staying there on holiday. Please allow me to introduce you to Dr. Palmer and Nurse Brownlee."

"Pleased to meet you. Thanks for sewing me up. Hey, Dr., am I taking any medicine that would make me have hallucinations?"

"No, no. Are you referring to that ruddy chicken that just ran in here?"

"Yes, I am. Did everyone else see it?" asked James.

Everyone else nodded.

"Does it run through here often?" asked James.

"Supposedly it is seen at varying times in different parts of the castle. The only one who had seen it before was Nurse Brownlee," answered the doctor.

"Where did she see it?

"In the room adjacent to the room you have been sleeping in," answered the doctor.

"That is nice to know," replied James.

Suddenly Holmes strode into the kitchen. " Miss Brownlee, did any of the Brothers that kidnapped you say why you were such a good sacrifice?"

"Sacrifice? Brothers? Kidnapped? Just what did I miss while I was unconscious," James asked.

" I was kidnapped by a few Brothers of an ocult religion that were very enthusiastic about offering me to their god. They said I would make a very good sacrifice. I got loose and slipped away when they got drunk and passed out. I got back here not very long ago,"explained Cassandra. "Have you found something?"

"Yes, I believe that I have. If my suspicions are right, it would explain a lot." He placed a large book on the kitchen counter. Everyone crowded around so that they could see.

"Did you tell them who you were while you were with them," asked Holmes.

"No, I did not. I did not see the need to, and anyway, I was too busy yelling and screaming to them to let me go. Why?"

"I think that they mistook you for the girl in this picture." said Holmes, opening the massive tome up to a page. On it was a picture of a young woman who looked very much like Cassandra. The name underneath the picture proclaimed that it was Jeanette McHenry.


	9. Chapter 9

A Ghost of a Chance, Chapter the Ninth.

Alas, I own nothing except the characters that you do not recognize from the Canon.

I'd like to thank my awesome beta, Medcat., and I would like to thank all who have read and reviewed. Help yourself to a virtual cookie.

"Jeanette McHenry? Who is she? And why would the Brotherhood be so keen to kill her?" wondered the nurse.

" As to who she is, she is the daughter of William Thomas, the owner of this castle. When he saw the resemblance between you and his daughter, he took his family and departed for safety, and left you to be kidnapped by the Brotherhood," explained the detective.

"What! You mean that he knows about the Brotherhood?" exclaimed Cassandra.

"Yes. I believe that he was either close to the Brotherhood, or a member himself. Given the fact that he let the Brotherhood use the caverns underneath the castle for their meetings, I think that he used to be a member of the Brotherhood. Since he had a government post, he had to keep it covert. Then they asked for something too dear to him to give to them. I am thinking that perhaps it was his daughter. When they happened to find you, they may have thought that he had changed his mind and then they kidnapped you. I think that we ought to talk to Mr. Thomas about this and find out what else the Brotherhood has asked him for."

"Do you mean that you think that the brotherhood is blackmailing him for his silence?" asked Watson.

"Yes, I do. Mycroft, where would be a safe place for him to take his family?"

"Well, there are a few places that he might go, but to bring his family, he would have to go to his summer home." said Mycroft.

"Do you have an address for his summer house?"

Mycroft took out one of his ever-present folders. He perused its contents, and handed Holmes a slip of paper that he had torn off of a larger sheet.

Just as Holmes turned to ask Watson to get their coats and hats, Watson handed him his coat and hat, having donned his own already. He chuckled as he shrugged into his coat and put on his hat.

They arrived in about an hour, and during that time, Holmes did not say a word. He looked out of the window, lost in thought. Watson was glad to find that he had a yellow-backed novel in his coat pocket.

As Holmes got out of the carriage, his mood seemed to change from pensive to confident. Holmes stepped up and rang the bell. An elderly servant with white hair answered the door. Before he had a chance to say anything, Holmes told him, "We are here to see Mr. Thomas. Is he in?"

"Yes, sir, he is, but he left instructions that he is not to be disturbed. Perhaps you could come back tomorrow?"

Holmes had been scribbling on the back of one of his cards. He handed it to the butler and said "Give this to your master. It may change his mind. We will wait right here."

The servant took the card and went back into the house. He returned in a few minutes with his answer.

"The master will see you now. Please follow me."

He led them down a long hall to a well-appointed study. However, Watson noticed that there were several signs that something was wrong. For one thing, the heavy drapes were pulled closed, making the room look like a gloomy cavern instead of a gentleman's study. Another sign was the look on the gentleman's face. It was lined with terror. He kept a stoic mask on while the servant was there, but as soon as he left, Mr. Thomas fell into a chair in despair. "My God, I see no way to escape this Brotherhood. They will take away what I love most, and then they will kill me. Alas!" After he said this, he covered his face with his hands and began crying.

Holmes walked over to Mr. Thomas. "Come, come, sir. Together we can overcome this evil Brotherhood, but we must not yield to despair, or we are beaten before we start."

"You would help me," asked Mr. Thomas, "Even after my abominable behavior? That is so ….unexpected of you. What can I do to help you?"

"I will need some information from you. I will do my best to help you, as long as you are candid with me. If I find that you are not being truthful with me, then there is no more that I can do, except watch you fall. Do you understand me?"


	10. Chapter 10

A Ghost of a Chance, Chapter the Ninth and three-quarters.

I'd like to thank my awesome beta, Medcat. I would also like to thank everyone who read and reviewed.

Wolfiechanlovesanime—Glad that you like it.

For technical reasons, this chappie is called Chapter the Ninth and three-quarters instead of Chapter the Tenth.

I own nothing.

All eyes were on Mr. Thomas. Would he let them help him, or would Mr. Thomas stubbornly cling to a plan that would mean both his downfall and the ruin of his family and friends? Mr. Thomas looked down and appeared to study his shoes for a moment. Then he swung his head back up, and looked Holmes right in the eyes. Neither man moved for what seemed like forever. Then seemed to come to a decision.

"I will take my chances with you. I truly thought that all was lost. I cannot express my thanks, " he said.

"I cannot make you any guarantees, but if we work together, we stand more of a chance than if we at alone. Now, Mr. Thomas, I need you to tell me all about this Brotherhood," said the detective.

"I will tell you all that I know," began Mr. Thomas. " My family was first contacted them back when my father first took possession of the castle. He soon became a member of the Brotherhood of the Snake, as they called themselves. This was to change. As time went on, they asked him every once in a while for something small that he would do for them. They always asked for small things, and he always granted them. He felt quite at ease with them. This would change, all too soon."

"A few years ago, my grandmother disappeared. The case was never solved. I think that the Brotherhood had something to do with it, and so did my father, but we could not prove anything. And the Brotherhood began to grow more arrogant and demanding toward my father. They told him that if he should deny them anything that they asked him for, that they would expose him as a member, and tell his superiors all. They told my father that that would mean losing both his position and his reputation."

"Just what favors did your father do for this Brotherhood?" asked Holmes.

"I was never told and I regret to say that I never asked my father," replied the politician. "I supposed that they told him how to vote or something that was related to his job. Then the Brotherhood asked him to give them something that he could not bear to give them—his granddaughter. I am sure that that was the reason for the heart attack that killed him. I think that the Brotherhood killed him, as certain as if they had shot him, but again, I could prove nothing."

"I assume that things came to a head, then."

"Yes. This morning I found a letter. It told me that I have until tomorrow at midnight to deliver my daughter into the hands of these fiends."

"And what did they say your ultimatum was?"

"They did not say, they just said 'or else'."

"Sounds rather ambiguous. Where and when did you find this letter?"

"It was pinned to my chest when I awoke this morning."

"Does anyone else know about this letter?"

"No, I told no—one. My wife and sister have divined that I was upset, but have no idea as to the cause. Do you really think that there is a way out of this difficulty?"

"I stand by what I said earlier. I think that there is, but only if we act together. I need to return to the castle to think more about this. I will be in touch with you tomorrow."

With that we shook hands with him, and walked out to the carriage. Holmes was silent on the way home, as well. Watson was glad to have a chance to read some more of his novel. The ride home seemed to take no time at all.

Holmes walked up the stairs and entered the castle. It was very cold in the castle and it was pitch black in there, too. Every lamp and fireplace was dark. Holmes grabbed a lamp and lit it. Then they both heard it—a thumping sound. They followed it into the Patient's Room. They could scarcely believe their eyes when they adjusted to the gloom. Dr. Palmer and James were seated in chairs and tied to them. They were also gagged. Holmes and Watson had them free in a moment.

"In the kitchen—there is a maid. I heard her scream. I think that she is tied up," gasped Dr. Palmer.

Watson went into the kitchen, and found the maid. She was indeed tied up in a chair. She had fainted. Watson removed her bonds and took her in his arms. He took her to the Patient's Room and lay her down on one of the beds.

"What happened here?" Holmes asked.

James licked his lips and replied "We were all in the kitchen having tea and talking, and all of a sudden these guys in robes burst in. They made short work of tying us up, since they also had guns. They took Nurse Brownlee and Mycroft and left!"


	11. Chapter 11

A Ghost of a Chance, chapter the Eleventh.

I would like to thank my awesome Beta, Medcat. I would also like to thank all of those patient readers who took time to leave a review. If you see anything that I need to work on, let me know, please. Now, why don't you all help yourself to some virtual cookies and milk, and enjoy!

Mycroft groaned inwardly. (He did not want to give his captors the satisfaction of hearing him.) He was perspiring, and his feet hurt. In short, he was rather miserable. Mycroft did not know how he was going to do it, but somebody was going to pay for his discomfort. And then there was the matter of re-kidnapping Nurse Brownlee. Just when the poor woman thought that she has safe, they had to show up. Oh, yes, someone would pay. He just had to figure out how.

Mycroft looked over at Nurse Brownlee. They had been forbidden to speak, but the issue of eye contact had not been addressed. She looked back at him, and gave him a weak smile.

The men in front must have sensed something was going on, for they halted and turned to face their prisoners. "Now, don't you be plottin' anythin', 'cause we can fix that. We were told to spare your lives for the Festival, but since your lady here is a nurse, she can tell you how much pain we can put you in and still keep you alive." Mycroft stole a look at his fellow captive and saw that her face had gone quite pale. The following laugh that came from both men sent chills down the backs of the two captives. "Oh, by the way, we were told not to play nice this time," floated over the taller man's shoulder as they stumbled through the darkness. Their pace quickened, and the two captives found themselves being pushed along in the darkness.

Meanwhile, back at the castle, Holmes, Watson, and Dr. Palmer were having a war council. Holmes spoke up. " What are the facts that we know? Let us see, now..." He began to write on a tablet. " The Brotherhood has kidnapped my brother and Nurse Brownlee. Two, they are going to sacrifice them. Three, Nurse Brownlee said that they were good to her. We can no longer count on that. Does anyone else have anything to add?"

Watson frowned. "The lower criminal classes are rather superstitious, are they not? And whether these people are members of this Brotherhood or simply flunkies for them, perhaps this is something that we can use to our advantage."

Holmes froze in place. His head turned slowly to look at Watson. He looked at him like he had never seen his friend before. Holmes started laughing and choked out "Watson, you

have done it again! You have given me an idea of how we can accomplish this objective. Thank you, old man. There is a lot of work to be done. Now, this is what I need you to do..."

Back in the tunnels, Mycroft and Cassandra were both wondering the same thing: when would Holmes make his move, and what would it be?

Just when Mycroft was beginning to think that his feet were going to defy physics and fall off, the taller of the Brethren said

"This cave will be fine for the night. I think our captives are too footsore to give us any trouble."

Everyone laughed at that except the prisoners, who did not think that that was very funny at all. They were rudely shoved into a corner of the cave when they heard it: the sound of someone sobbing. It seemed to grow closer, and fade a bit, but it always stayed within earshot. Although they kept a brave face, Mycroft could tell that they were rattled. His brother was behind this, of that he was sure. He smiled reassuringly at Cassandra when the guards were not looking.

She returned it with a weak one of her own.

A mist appeared by the entrance of the cave they were in. It swirled around a bit, and had a bluish cast to it. When you looked into it, you could see the dim form of a woman.

Suddenly, one of the men pulled Mycroft to his feet and held him tightly in front of him. A wicked looking knife was at his throat. "All right" the man growled "I know what you're trying to do, and you had better stop it right now, or he is going to get it!" The man was peering into the darkness but whatever he was looking for, he could not see it.

"Who are you, and why do you disturb me?"asked the mist.

As this woman inside the miasma spoke, Mycroft saw one of the man's comrades slip out of a small opening. "Ah," thought Mycroft. "He is circling around to the corridor behind her."

A moment later, they all saw a shadow behind the woman. The second man tried to grab the woman. As soon as he tried to grab her, chaos broke out. "FOOLS!" screamed the woman! There was a flash of light, and then the mist disappeared. At the same time all the lamps that the Brotherhood had were blown out by the freezing wind that blew through the cave. The only sounds were the sounds of the panicked Brethren, who were trying to retreat. They succeeded in rapidly running into rocks, from the sound of it. After a bit, Mycroft and Cassandra found themselves alone in the silent dark.


	12. Chapter 12

A Ghost of a Chance, Chapter the Twelfth

First off, I'd like to thank my very awesome beta, Medcat, along with anyone who read and reviewed. (Trumpet fanfare)

James Birdsong ()- Thanks! Glad that you enjoyed it.

Mrs. Pencil- I am so glad that you liked the story so far, and I hope that you will like the rest of it. Best fishes, and have a great week.

Rainbow()- I'm glad that you drew my attention to what bangers and mash was. I thought it was a breakfast food. And I guess a few contractions would make the conversations flow better. Thanks so much, I will keep this in mind.

Holmes, Watson,James, and Dr. Palmer made their way slowly down the corridor. They had run into several Brethren along the way, but they were easy to evade, mostly because they were trying to run in abject fear. After a while, they saw a small glow, like that of a lantern. Cautiously, they advanced towards this light.

Slowly making their way down the wide corridor, they came upon Mycroft and Cassandra. "Well, brother mine, it is good to see you. You were , no doubt, on your way to rescue us. Let us get to a place that we can talk. Look at the nice lanterns that...Watson, are you all right?"

Watson was pulling at his cravat, and suddenly dropped to his knees.

"Steady on,"cried Holmes, sinking on his knees beside his friend, whose eyes rolled back in his head. Watson went limp, and fell into a prone position.

Holmes turned Watson over, but could not see anything wrong with him, except for the fact that he was unconscious. Dr. Palmer checked him over as well as he could do without his bag, and came to the same conclusion. He had no idea why Watson was unconscious. They decided to return to the

castle and then give him a thorough examination.

Holmes insisted to be the one to carry him.

They travelled in silence, and in a few hours the surroundings began to look familiar. They entered the patient's room and pulled in the stepladder behind them. Holmes lay his friend gently down on the bed, and got Dr. Palmer's bag for him.

"Let us give the good doctor room to work, shall we," suggested Mycroft.

No sooner had Dr. Palmer opened Watson's shirt and touched him with the stethoscope than Watson sat up and opened his eyes. They were electric blue instead of the hazel they had once been. A voice came from Watson's throat, but it sounded female.

"I percieve that you are not the Brethren."

"No, we are not,"confessed Mycroft.

"The Brethren must be stopped, you know," she added.

"Why must they be stopped?" asked a curious Holmes.

"They play with forces that they cannot hope to understand, much less wield safely. They are too arrogant to recognize that they are in danger. Therefore they must be stopped. I will help you, if I can. I have no love for the Brethren."

"Who are you?" asked Holmes.

"I think you mean who was I. I was a beautiful girl who lived in the village. I was sought out by the leader of the Brethren. He told me he loved me. We spent a lot of time together. I fell in love with him. Then one night,we had a drink together. I fell asleep, and when I awoke, I was tied to a slab of rock. An altar, I suppose. I was so frightened. I begged and pleaded, but he was smiling as he thrust the blade into my breast. This is why I have no love for the Brethren."

"Why did you use my friend to talk to us? And will he be all right? Why do you care what danger the Brethren are in if you have no love for them?"

"Your friend will suffer no ill effects. He will need rest, but he will be just as before. The Brethren are endangering not only themselves, but everyone else. They are thinning the portal between them and us. Not everything on this side of 'the veil', as you call it, is benevolant. Can you imagine if something malevolent were summoned up and got out of their power? I will do what I can to aid you."

Then Watson blinked out of hazel eyes. He blushed, seeing that all eyes were on him.

"Holmes, what just happened?"

"You do not remember anything? Are you all right, Watson?" Holmes sat down on the bed by the doctor. "Dr. Palmer, would you take a look at him?"

"Holmes, I'm fine. Watson put his hands on Holmes' shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "What I'm trying to work out is this—was I having a fantastic dream of some sort, or was I actually possessed by a spirit?"


	13. Chapter 13

A Ghost of a Chance, Chapter the Thirteenth.

I'd like to thank my utterly awesome beta, Medcat.

Also, I'd like to thank everyone who read and reviewed.

And then there is the person who has read and reviewed for the longest—take a bow, Mrs. Pencil! (clappity clap clap)

and speaking of—Mrs. Pencil- It is kind of disconcerting, but I think that the electric blue eyes are quite nice, also... Quest for Dishes, and have a great week.

Rainbow()- Glad to hear from you. I'm really happy to hear that you liked my offering, and I hope you enjoy the rest of the story. As to either of the guys carrying each other, it is melodramatic, but I think they could do it if they kept a positive mental attitude...No, not 'I'm positive I can't do this.' It might be scientific, or it might turn out to be a ghostly mystery, I'm not sure yet.

I am also trying something new. The installs that I have been writing have been five pages. I'm going to try to make them ten pages long, and see how that goes.

Everyone have some refreshment, settle down and get ready for (Da Da Da Da Da) another chapter. Here goes-

Holmes met his friend's gaze. "It would seem that you were, old man. Are you aware of anything that transpired after you collapsed?"

"Yes, I could feel something pushing part of my consciousness to the side, and asserting itself there. It was a weird sensation, but it was not—I don't know how to describe it. I could not move. I felt more like an onlooker than anything else. Then I felt you lay me down on the bed. That was when I heard someone talking. It felt very weird when I realized it was me, and yet it was not. And then I was back in control of my body. I feel so drained, as if I had run a very long race."

"I know that you will need to rest. But—are you all right?" asked Holmes timidly.

"Yes, I am. Just very tired. Could you make me a cuppa? I'm really thirsty and that would be most welcome." Watson did want the tea, but he also wanted to be alone just then.

Holmes rose to go make the tea.

"Gentlemen—and lady, perhaps we should adjourn to the kitchen and let the good doctor rest," suggested the elder Holmes. There were murmurs of agreement as the group headed toward the kitchen.

Watson sighed, and made himself comfortable. He was almost asleep when Holmes came back with the tea.

"Here you go, old boy. Oh, perhaps I should not have bothered you, you looked so comfortable..."

"Nonsense. This tea looks so good. I think I'll finish it and then get some rest. Thank you for making it." Watson drained the cup and handed it back to Holmes. "Oh, and would you mind closing the door when you go out? Thank you so much."

Watson made himself comfortable once again and closed his eyes. They snapped open as soon as he heard the door close. Now that he was fortified with some hot tea, he had work to do. Watson took a deep breath and cleared his throat.

"Hello? I know you are here, I can feel you. I don't mean you any harm. Please let me know that you are here. We really need to talk." He waited calmly for a few moments,and then he was rewarded for his efforts.

A nearby lamp flickered and then went out seemingly of its own volition.

Watson hoped that his voice sounded reasonably steady. "Very good. We need to talk. Can you do that now, or do you need to rest? I imagine using me to talk through must have taken quite a bit out of you."

Watson felt compelled to step over to the mirror on the bureau. He obeyed this, and looked in the glass before he really thought about it.

In the mirror, there was a swirling green miasma. He fancied that he heard the tinkle of chimes or tiny bells. He listened intently—yes, those were chimes. A soft voice came out of the green fog.

"Greetings, Dr. Watson. I thank you for being the means of my communication."

"Yes, well, I really did not have a choice in the matter, did I?

Well, I am glad that I got a chance to help you out, but I do feel that you violated my privacy, my very will to achieve your goal. I know that you know how I feel. What are we going to do about this now?"

"I'm sorry to make you feel that way. It is not a good feeling. I do not blame you for not wanting to help me."

The vague face that had appeared in the mirror looked absolutely miserable. Watson thought long and hard; on one hand, the experience had been rather frightening, but on the other hand, she looked so dejected, and he could help. Then he spoke up.

"No, dear lady, I WOULD like to help you," clarified the doctor. " But we must agree on how I can do this. I suppose it would entail being a go-between for you just as I did tonight. All right, I could do that. But you must give me a choice in the matter. I cannot allow you to just take up court in my body whenever you please, it may not be a good time for me. Perhaps you could give me a sign when you want to speak up, and I can let you know somehow that it is an acceptable proposition. Let me see..."

"What if I were to squeeze your hand when I wish to communicate, and if it is not acceptable to you, you could squeeze back?" asked the mirror.

"Yes, yes. That sounds fine to me. Let us try that next time. Now I think that we both need to get some rest."

"You are very perceptive. I will rest easier knowing that you still wish to help. Thank you so much."

The green glow in the mirror faded, and was gone as if it had never been there. When the face had disappeared, Watson turned and leaned heavily against the bureau. He sighed. He had yet one more daunting task before him. He had to explain this to Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

>But before he did anything, he had to rest. He fell into bed and fell into a long, dreamless sleep.<p><p>

Watson opened his eyes, and saw that it was still night. How could this be? It seemed like he had just gone to bed. Turning his head, he saw that Holmes was sitting in the chair by the bed with a book. He had not seen that Watson was awake yet, so Watson cleared his throat.

"Watson, you are awake! You gave us quite a scare, old man. You have been asleep for three days. Nothing we did could awaken you! How are you feeling, Watson?"

"Fine, just extremely hungry. Three days, you say?"

"Yes, three days and two nights. I know that I sound like an old nanny, but would you let Dr. Palmer look you over? I would like to make sure that you did not incur any ill effects when, well, you know."

It was not often that Sherlock Holmes was at a loss for words. Watson realised that Holmes was trying to come to terms with what he had seen. The spirit world was something that did not dovetail with his philosophy. True, he had seen ghosts before, but they could be explained away. This could not, and Holmes could not explain it by anything natural. Perhaps Holmes would not be so hard to talk to, after all.

"Of course, of course, if it will put your mind at ease. But could we talk afterwards? I really need to talk to you, and I need for you not to be distracted." Then Watson remembered Mr. Thomas' predicament. He gasped and turned to Holmes, who began chuckling.

Holmes saw that his friend was fairly bristling with indignation. "You would laugh yourself if you saw your face. You were going to ask about Mr. Thomas, were you not?"

"Why, yes, I was, Holmes. However did you know?" asked the doctor, puzzled.

"Watson, I have said before, and I still hold to it, that your features are faithful servants. Fear not, old man. Brother mine has placed the family in a safe house for members of exalted status who need a safe place to be. There has been no action on the part of the Brotherhood. I am thinking that perhaps the Brotherhood is rallying for another strike. They are being too quiet." He raised his voice. "Dr. Palmer, Watson is awake. Could you take a look at him?"

Dr. Palmer entered the room, bag in hand.

"My, that was fast," observed Watson, chuckling.

Dr. Palmer blushed, and opened his Gladstone bag.

* * *

>Holmes left so that Watson could have his privacy.<p><p>

When the doctor finished looking at the other doctor, Holmes came in. He was bearing a tray with a very nice luncheon for two. There were two large, steaming pieces of Shepherd's pie, a pot of tea, and a wonderful Roly-Poly pudding.

"I thought that this would be the perfect time to talk," said the detective. Well, what did the doctor say?"

"I am fit as a fiddle, Holmes. He has no idea why I slept for so long, except that maybe my body was simply too tired to respond to any stimulus. Now what have we here? It looks too good to ignore it for long. The cook has made a wonderful recovery, I see."

"Ah, yes. That she has. Let us fortify ourselves with these victuals, and then we shall talk. I do not know where she got it, but the tea is Oolong."

"I mentioned to her once that I liked it, but I never expected her to go to any trouble to get it. That will certainly be a treat. I must remember to thank her. Maybe a brooch..."

The meal was shortly a very good memory. As the two got out their pipes, Watson spoke up.

"Holmes, do you trust me?"

"Implicitly, old man. Is that what is bothering you?"asked Holmes, seeing how earnest and serious his friend was.

"No. What I have to tell you is …...well, to be frank with you, it is rather bizarre, and I do not have any proof with which to back it up. I need you to believe me on nothing but trust. Will you try to do this?" asked the doctor.

Holmes caught Watson's arm as he was lighting his pipe. "Watson, I know that you are not going to lie to me. Why should I do anything except believe you, even if what you tell me is fantastic?"

"Where should I start? My head whirls just thinking about it."

"Well, in cases like this, I've found that it is best to begin at the beginning."

"Yes, I think you might be right. Give me a few moments to think about how I want to tell you this. Holmes, after you left with the teacup the other night, I spoke to the spirit that possessed me."

"What! How do you know that you spoke with the same spirit?"

"Yes, I know how dangerous that was, and I am fine, thank you Holmes. This is where you have to trust me. She said so. She even suggested a signal she could give to me to tell me when she wants to speak to us. That way, if it is an inopportune time, I can return the gesture and she will wait."

"What is this signal?"

"She will squeeze my hand. That was the most inobtrusive thing that I could think of at the time."

"Do you know how dangerous that was? Now just any spirit can just squeeze your hand, and tell us anything. And next time, maybe you won't just sleep for three days, you might be hurt!"

"Holmes, do you use informants ?"

You know very well that I do. They have been very helpful, but I see where you are going with this, and it is not the same. Damn and blast, Watson, I am afraid that you may have gotten in over your head!"

"Holmes, all we can do now is trust. And if my trust in this spirit is misplaced, I trust that you will be clever enough to help me in my time of need. Look at it this way, this spirit can enter my body at will, regardless of how I feel about it. I think that we should co-operate, don't you?"

Not even Sherlock Holmes could argue with that.

- A/N—I did it! Ten and a half pages of story! Hope you enjoyed it. Drop me a review and let me know, okay?


	14. Chapter 14

A Ghost of a Chance, Chapter the Fourteenth.

A/N- First off, I want to thank my awesome beta, Medcat. Then I want to thank everyone who read and reviewed. I love you guys!

Mrs. Pencil—Yes, the guys are going to do some pretty interesting things. I am glad that you liked the install, and I enjoyed writing the extra pages. Well, being cut down in the prime of her life, perhaps she is a little niave, but then again, she has had a long time to think and plan...

Anonymous() – I'm glad that you liked the new length. You will see more chivalrous Watson and worried Holmes in the future. And as to the thinning portal, you'll just have to wait and see. And about the confusion, it worked out well, even if it wasn't planned.

Faith Robin- Haven't heard from you in a while, how are you doing? I am glad that you liked it, dear.

Rainbow ()-Glad to hear that you liked it. I hope that you enjoy this install, too.

James Birdsong ()-I am glad to hear that you liked it, and I hope that you like this one too.

I own nothing except the characters that you do not recognize from the Canon. Here we go...

Days went by without anything odd happening. Watson had started to wonder if it was all a fantastic dream. He was putting something in the dresser when he felt it—a squeeze on his hand. His experiences of a few nights ago came back to him, filling him with a sense of dread. This was tempered to just anxiety when he remembered the dejected face in the mirror. He lay down on the bed, feeling slightly ridiculous.

"Well? Did you want to talk?" he asked the empty air.

He was answered by a faint tinkling sound. Then he felt that indiscribable feeling in his head, the feeling of his consciousness being swept to the side and another person's will asserting itself.

"I thought that you might like to try this again before it became a necessity. If you just think about your questions, I can answer you."

"All right. That is a good idea. What have you been doing with yourself?"

"Watching the Brethren, of course, and having a wonderful time. I went to one of their ceremonies and waited till the head Brother was all ramped up. Then I pulled his robes up over his head. I laughed and laughed. They all decided that the meeting was over, and headed for the exits. It was funny to see so many men trying to run in robes. Just so that they would not forget me, I screamed and groaned down the corridors that I spied unwary Brethren in. The fun you can have when you are invisible!" She sighed, obviously reflecting upon those fond memories.

"I really feel odd talking to you this intimately when I do not know your name. Can you tell me what it is, er was?"

"My name? Oh yes, I never did tell you. My apologies. My name is Amelia, and I am so glad to meet you, Dr. Watson. You have no idea how good it is to finally be able to speak to someone." answered the ghost.

"But why me? I do not mind helping you, but I am rather curious to know why you picked me."

"Well, to be truthful, I like you. You are kind and gentle. You have a sensitive nature, and it is like a beacon to spirits. Has no -one tried to possess you before?" she asked.

"Er...no. Is it something that I need to worry about?" asked the doctor, feeling a twinge of fear.

"Well, any self-respecting spirit will ask your leave and care about your feelings and honour them, but then there are really bad spirits out there. They will not ask your leave, because they don't care about your feelings. They have an agenda all their own. I need to apologize for not asking your permission to talk through you. All I was thinking about was being able to communicate through you, and what I wanted to say. I'm really very sorry about this."

"Do not give it another thought, Amelia. We all make mistakes. Amelia, I'm wondering about these other spirits. If there is a possibility of them trying to force their consciousness into my body, then I think that I need to know a little more about them." explained the doctor.

"Well, what do you want to know about?"

"Are there any dark spirits around here, and where are they? Do these spirits leave their usual haunts to chat with someone who is 'sensitive' ? And is there a way that I can protect myself? And..." Watson heard a soft chuckle interrupt him, and then the spirit spoke.

"One at a time, Dr. Watson. Yes, there is one dark spirit around here. He is in the Library. He is the spirit you were told about who manifests himself with no face, remember? I do not think that you need to worry about him, though. He just broods and looks out the window. I do not think that he has anything to say to anyone. There are ways to protect yourself, and I will tell you what they are. One way is by meditation, and another is through prayer. I see that you are a religious man, that will help you. Yet another way is through visualization. You have a very good imagination, and that will help you, too. I'll tell you about that later."

"Why not now?" asked the doctor."

"Well, I was thinking that you will be tired, but now I think it would be a good idea to tell you at least one way to protect yourself if a spirit should try to possess you against your will. You are aware when a spirit is around you, are you not?"

"Yes, I have been able to descern that since our first, uh, meeting,"explained the doctor.

"All right, that is good. When you discern that a spirit is nearby, start thinking about building a wall made of pure light around yourself. However, this exercise is useless unless you BELIEVE that this shield will protect you. Believe it with your heart and soul, or you will be undone. The next spirit that you run into may not be so benevolent. I percieve that you are tired. I will leave so that you may rest."

"Answer one more question for me, will you please?"

"Of course. What is it that you wish to know?"

"Will I always be so tired after I talk to you?"

"No, as you do this more and more, you will be less and less tired. Get some rest, and it was good to talk to you."

* * *

>"I'll have dreams of panicked Brethren running around hither, thither, and yon." chuckled the doctor, imagining the sight. He could feel the spirit departing, and his own consciousness expanding to fill the void. It was a weird sensation, and he knew he would never get used to it. He was very glad that there was a bed beneath him, for he was suddenly absolutely bone—weary.<p><p>

* * *

><p><p>

He awoke to Holmes shaking his shoulder and calling his name.

"Right here, Holmes. What time is it?"

"About ten o'clock. It is not like you to sleep for so long in the middle of the day." He thought for a his eyes narrowed. "Did that spirit have anything to do about this?"

"Yes, Holmes, she did. And her name is Amelia. She told me something interesting, too."

"Something interesting? Is it about the Brotherhood?"

"Why, yes. Yes, it is. Imagine this—a meeting of the Brotherhood. Just as the speaker works the crowd up to a fever pitch, his robe throws itself over his head. Then, as the meeting is broken up and the panicked Brothers head for the exits, strange laughter sounds from seemingly nowhere. Isn't that mental picture uplifting, Holmes?"

"I just wish I had been there to see it," laughed Holmes.

"She said that she was screaming and moaning down halls where she spotted unwary Brethren. It sounds like they are rather frightened of her. Amelia said that it amused her to see so many men trying to run in long robes."

"Yes, I guess that it would be quite amusing. Did she say anything else?"

"She told me that I was a sensitive, and as such was a beacon for spirits. She also taught me to protect myself from any unwanted invasion from a dark spirit."

"Did she say if there were any 'dark spirits' around here?

"Yes, there is one in the Library. She said not to worry about that one, though. Amelia said all he did was stare out the window and brood. She said that she did not think that he had anything to say to anyone. She said that it is the one that we have been told about, and that when he manifests himself, he does so without a face."

"So one of the legends is correct. I wonder who it is."mused the detective.

"I do not know. Apparently this castle has a long and varied history."

"I came to see if you were up, and if you were hungry. We have already eaten, but I fancy that we could find something in the larder to add to the sandwiches that the cook made."

"Holmes, you did not eat any lunch, did you?"

"I..I was busy, and I thought that I would eat with you when you woke up."

Watson was quite touched by the fact that Holmes was so concerned about his well-being that he had not eaten supper with everyone else, and was making do with cold sandwiches when he could have had a hot meal earlier.

They found a plate of sandwiches that had had been left for them, along with some jam-filled scones. Holmes made some coffee, and they both sat down to a hearty meal. After both of them had eaten their fill, they lit their pipes and began to talk.

"Has there been any action at all on the Brotherhood's part? What do you think they are up to?"

"No, there has been no sign of them. I'm not sure what they are doing, I have no proof. But somehow I get the idea that they are regrouping to do more mischief. I can feel it in my bones, yet there is nothing to substantiate that conclusion except for a feeling. This is so..." he groped for the right word "...frustrating."

"That must be rather irritating, old boy."

That was when he felt the squeeze on his hand.

A/N Well, here it is. I hope you enjoyed it. Please review, since it makes my heart go pitter—pat.


	15. Chapter 15

A Ghost of a Chance, Chapter the Fifteenth.

I want to thank my wonderful beta, Medcat, for vetting this chapter for me. Thank you so much, everyone who read and reviewed the last install.

Faith Robin- Glad to hear that you liked. Hope that you like this install.

VivaLaLena- Really happy that you liked the story enough to favorite it. Thank you so much!

- - "Holmes, she wants to talk through me again. I am going to go sit on the bed."

"Should I leave?" Holmes asked. "I do not want to interrupt …."

"Would you stay?" the doctor asked. "I really would prefer if you did." Watson walked over and sat on h

is bed. There was that strange sensation again, and Amelia began to speak. She spoke directly to Holmes, which surprised him greatly.

"I have word of the Brethren," she promptly said.

"And why are you telling us?"

An exasperated sigh came forth from the doctor. Though the doctor's face was turned away from the window, Holmes could still make out twin electric blue beacons.

"Did you hear nothing that I told you last time I talked to you? I have no desire for them to succeed in bringing anything from this side of the veil, as you call it, to your side. Now listen, for we have not much time. I overheard one of the higher-ranking Brethern explaining just what the plan was, and what each of them should do."

"And how do you know the higher-ups from the others?" asked a curious Holmes.

"Oh, the neophytes are the ones in brown robes. They do any menial work that needs to be done. The ones somewhat higher up wear grey robes, and they tell the neophytes what to do. The highest of the order wear black robes, and they tell the people in the grey robes what to do. And last is the head of the order. His robes are scarlet, and he does whatever he wants. Usually it is quite illegal, because running such an organization is not cheap. Now as I was saying, the brothers are going to move tomorrow, when they think you and Watson are out exploring the tunnels. Then they are going to sneak up and take the ladder from the door, thus locking both of you out of the castle. Then they plan to come in the front door and kidnap your brother, Miss Brownlee, and Dr. Palmer again for the ritual three days hence. They would like to capture you and Watson, too, but they are not going to go out of their way to attempt to capture you, since they do not see you as a serious threat."

"Why in the world would they think that Watson and I would be exploring the tunnels tomorrow?" asked Holmes.

"Your brother did not tell you?"

"Tell me what?" asked the detective.

"If he did not tell you, it is not my place to do so. You must ask him. Your friend is tiring, and I must leave you now."

Watson fell back on the bed from where he had been sitting.

Holmes was quite curious by now. But first things first. "Are you all right, Watson? You look quite pale."

"Yes, Holmes. I am am very tired, though."

"Why don't you lie down for a while, then, and I will check on you in a while." Holmes said, rising.

"Holmes, that would be wonderful. Could you close the door on the way out?" Holmes had the door almost closed when he heard "Holmes?" He opened the door and asked "Yes?" "Please catch me next time. These beds are not as soft as the ones back at Baker Street." Chuckling, Holmes closed the door softly.

Holmes had no sooner closed the door behind him, than he saw the woman he was looking for. "Miss Brownlee, may I have a word with you, please?"

Cassandra nodded her assent, and both of them went into the kitchen. Both of them sat down, and Holmes cleared his throat.

"Miss Brownlee, when the Brotherhood captured you last, were you and Mycroft separated before that spirit came along?"

"Why, yes, we were. I was blindfolded and taken to another room and left tied up for a while. There was someone there, but they would not talk. Why?"

"Yes, why, brother mine?" asked Mycroft, who had wandered into the kitchen looking for some tea and maybe a few biscuits.

"Well, Watson and I were just talking to Amelia, and she mentioned that the Brotherhood somehow got the idea that Watson and I were going to be in the tunnels tomorrow. Would you know anything about that, dear boy?"

"Actually, yes, I do. The leader of the Brotherhood is a rather persuasive fellow, and he was very insistant that I was going to tell him something before he would let me back up. I figured that I should tell him something that we could use to our own advantage. I thought that after I put on a pot of tea and looked around for some stray scones, that I would find you, Watson, Dr. Palmer, and James and have our own little council of war!"


	16. Chapter 16

A Ghost of a Chance, Chapter the Sixteenth.

Anonymous ()- I agree with you. I hope that you enjoy the events that follow. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing.

WatsonandMary4ever-Thank you so very much. Watson has been through a lot so far, yes?

Marypussycat79,- Thank you for taking the time to leave a lovely review. I just love them, they keep me going.

As Watson was resting, everyone else decided to meet in the kitchen in several hours.

When Mycroft came into the kitchen, the cook was putting the finishing touches on the supper. The maid began to carry it out to the massive dining table. Mycroft closed his eyes and took in the wonderful scents that were wafting around in the kitchen, truly a treat.

"Um, sir, was there something I could do for you? Perhaps a cuppa?" Mycroft opened his eyes to find the cook regarding him curiously.

"Why, yes. Yes, that would be lovely. I was just enjoying all these wonderful smells, the food, the make some extraordinary aromas come out of this kitchen, my dear lady."

"Oh, why, thank you, young man." She turned to pour the kettle. "Here you go, sir. It warms my heart to see someone enjoying my work. Thank you."

Mycroft took the proffered cup and wandered into the dining room, where he found the rest of his friends sitting around the dining room table, waiting for him. He looked at the table and once again silently praised the virtues of having a host whose servants provided wonderful meals at any hour. They did not question the odd hours of their employers, they just served the food and took it all in stride.

Holmes had quietly stepped over to his side and asked him, "Are you all right, brother mine? It is not in the natural order of things for you to be the last one to the table. And with such a thoughtful look upon your face. Is everything all right?

"Well, not really." answered Mycroft. "I would have told you before, but I do not think that I am ready to talk with anyone else about this yet. But it is reassuring to know that I can talk to you when I am ready. Thank you."

"Always," said Holmes, squeezing his brother's hand. Then they went to their chairs and sat down.

The meal was wonderful, as they had come to expect from this cook. For the first time, they enjoyed one of her Yorkshire puddings, and they found it quite a treat. It was rich and filling as well as being delicious.

When they had finished eating and the dishes had been cleared, they began to make their plans for the following day. After a while of talking, they settled on a plan. Before they retired to their rooms, Holmes looked at Mycroft, James, and Miss Brownlee.

"Please remember that it is of paramount importance that you act naturally. That means resisting the temptation to do anything that might betray our presence. Allow the Brethren to 'capture' you, and we will be following as closely as we dare. As soon as we can, we will release you. Do any of you have any questions?"

"Yes. What do you plan to be doing? Why are you so sure that you will be able to release us, Mr. Holmes?"

Holmes turned to James, who had asked the question. "After you three are captured, Watson and I shall follow you. When we see where you are kept, I shall leave the tunnels and pay the local constabulry a visit. Then I shall come back with reinforcements and set you free. That should be the undoing of that particular unholy order."

With that, everyone headed back to their own rooms.

A/N Medcat, thank you! I was grasping for the word 'constabulary' and you put it in your notes! Thanks for vetting this chapter, also. I know that you are busy and it means a lot.

Also, Mrs. Pencil, thank you for your kind words and encouragement. It was just what I needed to get me going again. Kudos, my dear, and gold fishes.


	17. Chapter 17

A Ghost of a Chance, Chapter the Seventh

Sorry about the gap between the chapters. A lot has happened. You know how it is, one thing leads to the next, and then there is a long time of not writing, but meaning to.

I would like to take the time to thank my awesome beta for vetting this chapter. I really appreciate the time that you take to do it.

Also, I would like to thank everyone who read and reviewed. So now, without furthur ado, here's our story:

Watson was sleeping when it finally found him. It had sensed the doctor since he had neared the castle. But now, he was closer. Close enough to look at. Close enough to bend him to his will, or taste his panic at not being able to control himself anymore, or maybe seeing the very thing that he was absolutely horrified of in the mirror, or one of the many things that he could do. Oh, how he wanted to do them all! Just for fun, he made one wall bleed. Someone would find a gory mess in the morning. Wonder what they would make of it? He shuddered with silent mirth. Very gently he picked the physician up and carried him to the bookcase. The book jumped into place, and the bookcase silently swung open. Then the doctor was carried through the secret door to the tunnels beyond.

The spirit passed a hand over the sleeping form of the doctor, and Watson stood on his feet before him. Fully awake now, he was truly puzzled. Where was he, and how did he get here?

"I suppose it would be helpful if I took on a shape so that you could see me. Here we go."

There appeared at Watson's elbow a tall, guant form in a jet-black cloack. There was no face in the hood where a face should be, only more blackness. Watson thought that that was more frightening than anything else that could have been there. He was also shocked at the suddenness of something materializing right by him.

"Oh, dear Lord! Who are you?"

"It's not who I am but what I am that's important to you. You see, we are going to be very close."

With those words, the figure simply melted into Watson. It simply stepped into him and vanished.

The doctor was suddenly overwhelmed by memories and sensory perceptions of someone else's life. He groaned and fell to one knee, panting.

"Sort of intense, is it not? It always feels a bit outre when it is forced upon you. Now you are going to collect yourself, forget all about me, and go back to bed."

"What am I doing out here?"asked the bewildered doctor, who had forgotten all about the nightmate that was just at his elbow. "Holmes, is this some sort of joke? Well, I haven't sleepwalked in years, but I must have done... Better not let Holmes find out about this, he will never let me live it down. Ah, here is the opening." He pushed the door open soundlessly and went over and lay down on his bed. Moments later he was asleep.

A/N: Sorry it was so short.


	18. Chapter 18

A Ghost of a Chance, Chapter the Eighteenth.

Mycroft opened his eyes, sighed, and looked around the table. Back to business. He was sitting at the kitchen table along with the rest of the castle inhabitants, who had agreed to meet in the dining room bright and early to continue their council of war against the Brotherhood. They had all discussed who would do what and when they would do it. Being recaptured did not sit well with James, Miss Brownlee, and Mycroft at first, but Holmes assured them that he and Watson would follow the Brethren and set them free at the first opportunity. Then they would head to the local constablables and inform them about the Brotherhood and their actions.

The maid started bringing trays from the kitchen There were wonderful aromas drifting up from each one. There were scrambled eggs, biscuits, sausages, scones, potatoes, coffee, and tea.

With the plans for the day out of the way, the group began to eat heartily. Soon, all that was left of those brimming dishes were pleasant memories and empty trays.

Holmes looked around the table. "Ahem." He cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. When he had it, he spoke again. "Today is going to be a busy day for us, but one that I am sure that we can bring to a successful conclusion. Just remember, please, that we need to act natural and let the Brethren capture us. But we cannot make it too easy or they may get suspicious. You know where you need to be. Any questions? No? Good luck, then."

While Holmes was downstairs in the dining room talking to those around the table, Amelia was wandering through the castle. She was in the library, and had almost passed through it into the conservatory, when she drew up short. It was so subtle that it nearly went unnoticed, but she caught it. The brooding aura of the dark, faceless spirit was gone. She looked over in the corner, his usual spot. It was empty.

Back down on the first floor, the maid was just answering the door. She was quickly overcome, tied up, and stuffed in a closet. Eight tall, brown-robed Brethren entered and closed the door behind them. Methodically, they searched the castle until they had rounded up Mycroft, James, and Miss Brownlee.

The staff was tied to chairs in the kitchen.

"The higher-ups really want these guys. Bringing these people in ought to get us in good with somebody. This may be a feather in our caps, boys. Let's go." said one of the Brethren, and he led the Brethern to the mirror, slid the book into place, walked into the tunnels and handed the small stepstool that Holmes and Watson used to keep the passage from sliding closed, back through the opening. The stepstool was passed down the line and set down in the corner by the last monk in line. After everyone had gone through the secret door, it swung back around.

A/N I'd like to thank everyone who read and reviewed. You inspire me. I'd also like to thank my awesome beta, Medcat.


	19. Chapter 19

A Ghost of a Chance, Chapter the Nineteenth.

A few moments after the room had been vacated by the Brethren and their captives, Holmes came into the room and looked around. A few minutes later Watson joined him. He had been busy in the kitchen untying the staff. Then he had retrieved the maid from the hall closet. Everyone was alright except for one of the maids (the one from the hall closet.) She had a strained wrist as well as a mild concussion.

"Everyone is alright, Holmes. We can leave now. I do not want to give them too much of a head start. Good Lord, but it feels so good to be going out and doing something productive once again, after being confined to this dreary old castle for so long! I don't think that I've used my tracking skills (outside of trying to track you down in London) since my days with the Fusiliers back in Candahar." As Watson spoke, he was already sliding the book into the bookcase and waiting impatiently for the secret door to finish slowly swinging around. At least he had the satisfaction of knowing that the Brethern had had to wait, too.

Once inside the tunnels, Watson noticed that the stepstool that he and Holmes usually kept by the door (when it was not holding the door open) was gone. "Holmes, grab the stepstool and wedge it in the door, will you?"

The detective looked around the room and spied the stepstool in the corner. He strode over to it, and was just bending over to pick it up, when he saw a mirror hanging on the wall above it. Something moving in the mirror caught Holme's eye. There was a green fog swirling around in the mirror. It started around the outside of the mirror and worked its way to the centre. Then the mist seemed to clear, and the features of a young woman looked out at Holmes.

"Hello," she said calmly. Holmes thought that her voice echoed, and he could swear that he could hear the tinkling of bells, although he did not see any.

"Go on ahead...I will catch up to you." From a little distance, he heard Watson's fading footfalls... Great. Now he was alone with this. And the fact that it was impossible did not seem to be slowing it down one bit. Nervously, he cleared his throat and turned back to the mirror.

"Ahem. Er, hello. Why did you wait until Watson was gone to catch my attention?" He paused a moment. "And am I correct in assuming that you are the same Amelia that Watson has told me about?

"Yes, that would be me. I waited to talk to you until Watson was gone because I wanted to talk to you, not him. You see, I was going through the castle today, and something felt different. At first, I could not figure out what was different. But then it suddenly made sense, and I knew what was different. That dark spirit was gone from the library, you know, the one without a face? I went next door into the music room, and beheld a gruesome sight. There was a huge pool of blood leaking out of the ballroom. Blood was coming out from under the door. I went on in the room, and it looked like one of the walls had started bleeding, incredible as that sounds. Then I raced down here to warn Dr. Watson to be careful."

"So why did you change your mind and decide to talk to me instead?

"As a spirit, I can sense the prescence of another spirit, if I am looking for it, just like you can track another human. I stopped in my tracks and waited to talk to you when I felt the other spirit, the Faceless One in this chamber."

"Did'nt Watson tell me that you told him how to protect himself against being invaded by a spirit? Didn't you teach him meditation and somesuch nonsense? It did not do him a lot of good!" Holmes had KNOWN something bad would come of this, and here it was.

"Yes, I taught Watson to protect himself, and meditation is not nonsense," Amelia explained patiently. It was hard for her not to get upset with the detective, since she had a temper of her own. But she realized that this man was hurting, and that kept her from being too upset . "I think that this faceless spirit simply overwhelmed him when he was vulnerable. He did not think that that spirit was a threat, so I guess the spirit just bided his time. You see, Watson is human, and that makes him vulnerable to a really determined attack. I just wanted to let you know to be careful. You'd better go and catch up to your friend. I'll see you later." The face blurred and morphed into a field of fog. "Godspeed, Sherlock Holmes." was the last thing she said to him. Then the mirror simply reflected the room around it.

Holmes caught up to Watson soon enough, but it seemed like forever until he saw the soldier kneeling by a large boulder

by the path. Holmes was grateful to see that Watson was caught up in the thrill of the chase and the need for stealth. He hardly noticed when the detective knelt next to him, and he did not ask where Holmes had been. Holmes sent up a silent prayer of thanks to whatever Diety looks after Consulting Detectives.


	20. Chapter 20

A Ghost of a Chance, Chapter the Twentieth.

Holmes finally caught sight of the erstwhile doctor, who was ahead of him in the tunnel. He was crouching by a large rock.

"Well, Watson," he breathed as he knelt behind the doctor.

"Have you seen where they are being kept?"

If Holmes had been facing the doctor, he would have noticed immediately that something was wrong. Instead of a face, there was a swirling miasma in the shape of Watson's head.

The physcian nodded slightly and motioned for the sleuth to move closer to him. Thinking Watson was going to whisper something to him, Holmes obeyed.

As soon as the detective was close enough, Watson attacked. In no time at all, he had Holmes by the throat. Holmes was on his back, belatedly remembering Amelia's warning.

The detective was in an inhumanly strong grip that he could not shake free of, or slip away from. He couldn't force the hands from his throat. He was running out of air and options.

Suddenly, Holme's eyes blazed a deep amythest colour.

As they did so he heard Watson, as if from a distance,say "Enjoy this breath for it is the last one that I shall let you draw."

"I know who you are,and I think I know wht you are doing this, but you must stop for a moment and listen to me." Holmes was speaking, but the voice was decidedly not his own.

"Ameila? Can it be you? You still speak to me? Why are you involved in this? Is this mortal special to you," asked Watson,`pointing at Holmes. The grip on Holmes neck loosened.

"Both of them are friends of mine. But you are the man I fell in love with, and will always love," declared the detective.

"What is it that you need to talk to me about? If I were to kill the mortal, would these feelings for me change? How do I know this is not a trick?"asked Watson.

"You know how deeply I feel for you. You have to trust your own heart for guidance. I hate to see you used by the Brethren in this life also, said Holmes.

" And how am I being used?" inquired the doctor.

"Do you not see that they are using your strength to remove any opposition to the Brotherhood while they continue to break the law? The Brethren have changed and they are using you as a mere servant, my love. You do not have to be their lackey forever, Malik. Come to me and let us get reaquainted. This is not our fight anymore, my darling. It is for the mortals to work out," said the detective.

Malik was silent for a moment. "You are right," he sighed. "They appealed to my vanity I thought that I was in control of the situation, but they have been using me all along."

He released the detective and reached out his hand to help Holmes to his feet.

"I apologise for trying to kill you. I overstepped my bounds, and I am sorry. Now I suppose you will be wanting your friend back..."

Holmes had the presence of mind to catch Watson as he collapsed. Malik had simply stepped out of Watson.

As Malik left Watson's body, a slight figure wandered over to the rock that Watson had been crouching by just a few minutes ago. She hopped on it, sat down and smoothed out her skirts. Then she patted the rock beside her. Malik went over to the rock to take his seat whereupon both spirits vanished.


End file.
